Trapped Hawk
by Lennox13
Summary: There was a reason why Clint chose 'Hawkeye'. It was a nod to his past, to another life, to another self. (Inspired by the thought: What if Clint could actually turn into a hawk?)
1. Chapter 1

Aliens.

Damn fucking aliens.

Why was it always aliens?

His fists hit the wall. Again. Again. Again.

Clint screamed and cried and roared, emotions bubbling up inside of him faster than he could process. Rage and loss and despair.

The friends that had died, the family that he had lost – all because of aliens. And he thought he'd put it all behind him. Working in covert operations should have given him more than enough of a warning to make himself scarce. Because yes, coward that he was, he was not going to risk dealing with aliens again.

But this time, the aliens looked so normal and it didn't dawn on him until it was too late, until they had wormed their way into his brain, taken him over and taken away his free will. Again.

He had killed people. There was blood on his hands, placed there not by his own volition. Worst of all? He couldn't remember any of it. How was he supposed to know what to atone for, if he couldn't damn-well remember! He punctuated the last few words with a punch each. His knuckles stung.

A knock sounded at the door, and he swerved towards the sound, his bow already in his hands and being drawn. He waited, barely breathing, as his heart threatened to pound right through his chest.

"Clint?" Came the tentative question. He didn't think he'd ever heard Natasha sound so… soft. The seconds dragged on before he could even summon the courage to loosen the death grip on his bow.

"Clint? I know you're there. I just want to see if you're okay."

If anyone could understand, it was her. Having been brainwashed herself from a young age and made to do unspeakable things. He could trust her. Right? Their earlier conversation… he could barely recall it through the haze of the lingering mind-control and drugs but the idea of someone doing anything to harm her made him want to hiss and spit and curl around her protectively. The thought that it might have been him that hurt her, made him want to gouge out his own eyes.

He breathed and lowered his bow. _It's just Nat_, he told himself as he walked with heavy feet over to the door.

He opened the door and for some reason, his mind went where he hadn't allowed it to go in years.

He opened the door and wanted, needed, hoped that it would be a blonde girl with bright blue eyes and a fierce smile dressed in a leotard, waiting for him.

It _was_ just Nat, though, and she was his friend. But she didn't know all that there was to know about him, so she wouldn't understand why his insides were hurting as much as they were, or why he wanted to hug her close, cry, and never let go. He didn't know that side of him anymore, and neither did she.

"Clint, you know that nobody blames you for any of this, right?" she said, trying to get a read on him. He kept his face impassive, tried to channel his inner hawk who didn't care about death and love. His old friend was waiting just underneath his skin, so close that unconsciously his gaze sharpened, and his skin prickled with unbidden feathers.

"Thanks, Nat," was all he could muster, swallowing down the instinctual desire to disappear into his hawk half. He was just so tired of everything. Of hiding, of lying, of fighting, of feeling.

Natasha stared at him for a while longer, seeming to debate something with herself. He could see the shards of her own sanity shifting within her gaze. It was like looking into a mirror. Before he could stop himself, he stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. He felt her flinch but gently held on until she relaxed and squeezed back. If she was anything like him, the only reason why she was still fighting so fiercely to just hang on, was because of this – they were fighting for the people they loved.

_"What did Loki do to you?"_ He remembered asking.

Well, for one, he made us realise that we still had something worth fighting for.

* * *

Clint was in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see any of Loki's power lingering in his eyes. But he imagined he could still feel it. The shower had helped clear his thoughts at least. He had decided that it was time to tell Nat the truth about who he was, or rather, who he had been.

He heard sounds coming from the other room.

"Go where?" He caught Natasha asking and perked his ears.

"I'll tell you on the way," came the answer. The voice sounded male, mature and vaguely familiar. Whoever this man was, he carried authority like a second skin. Whatever he was planning on going was where Clint wanted to be. "Can you fly one of those jets?"

"I can." He stepped outside and firmly took his fate into his own hands.

* * *

**I was going to set this as a crossover, but I honestly don't know if anyone still remembers what this is a nod to and you don't really need to know in order to understand this as a one-shot. Bonus, however, if you do (the hints are very subtle) comment below because this is dedicated to you and me and everyone who still remembers the good old days.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Fudge-buckets," Captain America said under his breath as the sky continued oozing aliens. Him, Clint and Natasha stared up at the tower with its bright blue beacon splitting the heavens. It seemed impossibly far away.

Around them, chaos reigned as aliens attacked and destroyed everything and everyone in their paths. Scared screams and shouts of terror echoed throughout New York as people ran to get to safety. The sane part of Clint stared at the massive alien ships diving through the fissure and urged him to follow the civilians and hide. Fortunately, Clint had long since gotten exceptionally good at ignoring his saner self.

When Captain America ran off to help organise the police and get civilians to safety, Clint considered morphing into something bigger. Perhaps something with fangs or claws at least. His arrows, as effective as they were, were going to run out sooner than later if the sheer number of aliens approaching their position was any indication. And honestly, he had some pent up rage that needed to get out.

Natasha's handguns succeeded mostly in simply annoying the bastards, their thick hides easily shrugging off anything that was not centred firmly on their foreheads. He handed her an extra clip before going to help some people stuck in a bus. Seeing a man clutch his little girl, desperately running for a building and relative safety, was all Clint needed to strengthen his resolve. Yup, that's why he did this.

"Just like Budapest!" Natasha called to him over the clamour of yells and gunfire.

He shot her an incredulous look before focusing once more on the task on hand. "You and I remember Budapest very differently," he stated, loosing arrow after arrow, each finding their intended mark. He threw himself into the fight, losing himself to the heat of battle. His reactions sped up; his senses sharpened. He could smell blood and taste it in the air. A part of him revelled in the rush of the adrenaline and the violence and the hunt. Every take-down was a small victory; every victory was a tribute to _her._ He gave his instincts free reign as he punched and kicked, swung and dodged, killing aliens just as one would if one had been doing it since thirteen years of age.

Sometime during the fight, they were joined once more by Captain America. Clint hadn't noticed him approaching; he was simply suddenly there and Clint flawlessly adjusted his fighting style to accommodate a larger team, watching the heavy-hitter's back and knocking down strays that got too close to Natasha. Bolts of lightning shredding through the half a dozen remaining aliens surrounding them announced the arrival of Thor and Clint immediately seized the unexpected lull in battle to collect some of his arrows. An archer running out of arrows… the horror.

Banner also decided to make an appearance, and right on time since Tony Stark arrived with one of the gigantic, alien-spawning ships hot on his tail. He jokingly referred to it as a 'party'. Clint was not amused.

And neither was Nat. "I don't see how that's a party."

Before their eyes, Banner became the Hulk, and Clint couldn't help but admire the smoothness of the transformation. It made even Cassie's morphing look ugly in comparison. A sharp pang of longing swept through him. What he wouldn't give to have them all fighting by his side once more. But half of them were dead and the rest had other responsibilities, families, even.

At least, a Hulk was significantly better than a tiger on the power scale. And power was what they needed as more and more alien ships poured from above. Clint's bones turned to ice at the sight.

"Call it, Captain," Tony broke them from their reverie, and quickly, Captain America stepped up into the leader role, doling out jobs and instructions, trying to utilise them all and their respective skills as best he could. It was startling how much Steve reminded him of Jake. The maturity, the level-headedness, the ability to effortlessly inspire others. Also, both Jake and Steve were always great at playing to people's strengths. Captain America sent Clint up, which was exactly what he wanted.

"Want to give me a lift?" Clint asked Tony, who did just that and deposited him on a nearby rooftop. It felt good to be nearer to the sky.

At first, it seemed to be working. They, the team, were definitely slowing things down, but as soon as they killed one alien, three more took its place. Clint tried to use his arrows sparingly and as effectively as possible, shooting down the flying bicycles in favour of targeting individuals. Being up high put him in a much safer position than his comrades, though, as well as gave him the perfect vantage point for when they got hurt.

Before he realised it, he pulled out his last arrow. "Shit," he swore to himself and loosed the explosive at a group of aliens heading for a small café, filled with cowering people. Maybe he could borrow one of Nat's… his gaze swept across the battlefield until he found the familiar sight of the redhead. Adrenaline spiked. Two aliens had her pinned down, one of their energy weapons aimed at her head. Clint didn't blink. He didn't think. He simply acted.

He jumped.

He flew.

_Tseerr!_

* * *

**My goodness! I am so unbelievably happy to know that I am not the only one left! Yup, Animorphs - good times. Anyway, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I decided to go a bit further, with some proper nods to the Animorphs. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Special thanks to FireSpiritHiki, who gave me hope that I was indeed not alone and basically, gave me the incentive to write more. Oh, and for the Guest, who summed up my own feelings so accurately. Yes, after all these years, it still hurts. :) Thank you so much!**


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha thought that she was going to die. Actually, she had already accepted that as a fact as she stared at the brightening tip of the alien's weapon. The heat of it scorched her face. She simply hadn't thought that this would be how she finally met her end. Definitely not via aliens.

_Tseerr!_

The sound echoed through the street, bouncing between the large skyscrapers, but only succeeding in distracting the aliens for a second. The sound came again just before a large shadow dive-bombed the alien looming above her. In the furious struggle that followed, Natasha couldn't quite get a good look at whatever had saved her, but merely tried to shove off the other alien and keep her head intact. She managed to kick it off, struggled upright and slammed a piece of rubble against the other alien's head before it could recover. The thing collapsed into a heap of limbs.

The first alien was roaring, frantically trying to pry a large reddish-brown bird from its face. The alien's helmet lay discarded a few feet away and where its eyes once were, now sat bloody caverns. Natasha stared in morbid fascination as the bird, a hawk, she believed, literally tore the alien's face apart. It collapsed, clutching its head, and the hawk detached itself and flew off.

Scrambling to get the weapon that had been trained on her moments before, Natasha shot the alien, ending its misery. Her gaze trained upward, searching for the bird that had saved her life. Stranger things have certainly happened in her life, but something about the bird's colouring seemed very familiar.

"Nat! Behind you! Look out!" Clint's voice sounded. It sounded strange as if he were saying it over coms and standing right beside and above her, all at the same time.

Trusting her partner impeccably, Natasha spun around, landed kneeling and fired, shooting a hole straight through an alien. Its innards exploded across the street as the shot it had fired moments before its demise, harmlessly passed over her head.

"Thanks, Clint," she said over coms, looking over to where Tony had left the archer. Clint's perch was empty. "Clint? Clint, where are you?" She looked around but couldn't see him anywhere. And he wasn't replying.

"Guys, does anyone have eyes on Clint?" She asked, dread curdling in her stomach.

Steve was the first to respond. "No. Natasha, is something wrong?"

"He's gone. I can't find him. And he's not responding on coms."

"Legolas probably just ran out of arrows. We'll keep an eye out for him, but for now, I'd focus on the mini alien army approaching, if I were you." Tony rushed overhead, gesturing to her left, where a few dozen aliens were rounding the corner.

"Damnit," Natasha crouched behind an upturned car and opened fire, knowing full well that she was going to be overwhelmed in no time. "I could use an assist," she admitted to the others, wishing that she could shoot lightning from her hands.

"I can give you a hand, but I'd need to borrow a gun."

Momentarily forgetting where she was, Natasha spun around to find Clint crouched behind her. "Here," she shoved her last gun into his hands with a small smile of relief. "Good to see you," she turned back to the aliens. "Even if you're only wearing biker shorts. Where's the rest of your clothes? And your earpiece, for that matter. We were worried."

"Awh, you do care," Clint joked, using every bullet with deadly precision. "I'll explain later. Promise."

The onslaught was endless and moments later, Clint was out of bullets and the stolen alien tech started overheating in Natasha's hands. "Any bright ideas?" Natasha asked as she threw a grenade into the thickest patch of aliens, only for about half of them to emerge from the smoke still unscathed.

Clint made a high-pitched whine at the back of his throat and pursed his lips. "Maybe. It's an idea. Not very bright, though. Are we very desperate?"

"Yes. I'll take anything." Natasha looked at Clint. Was his forehead bigger? She shook her head. Why was she thinking about that at a time like this? But definitely, his forehead was bigger.

"Okay, so, don't freak out," Clint's voice became warped and guttural as his skin became a dark shade of green. "It's still me," he said, but the last sentence she heard inside her head.

Natasha's eyes widened imperceptibly - but definitely widened by Black Widow standards - as Clint started growing and expanding. "Are you radioactive too?" she asked, her voice a soft hush, thinking that somehow Clint had been hiding his own inner-Hulk all this time.

"Not really." Clint's voice sounded in her head again. Wait, he was telepathic now, too? "You might want to close your eyes, Nat. My morphing is not as pretty as Banner's."

Understatement of the century, she thought, as suddenly, all of Clint's hair was sucked back into his scalp like spaghetti and wide, deadly-looking blades split through his skin, making him look like a Christmas tree of panga machetes. "Holy hell," Natasha breathed but refused to look away. The protein bar she had a few hours ago churned in her stomach.

"Stay here," Clint said, his transformation complete, and jumped at least 3 meters straight up, clean over the car. He landed in front of the startled looking aliens and started slicing through them like a hot knife through butter. He was a dancing massacre, vengeance brought to life, bladed limbs flying through the air.

Natasha granted herself a few heartbeats to stare in awe, before running over to another one of the alien weapons and firing into the melee. Clint had a lot of explaining to do.

Sometime during the fighting, Steve and Tony had joined forces and fought their way towards Natasha's position, and Thor approached from the other side of the city with more aliens following.

"There's no end to them," Steve sounded just a bit winded, as he blocked a beam headed for Natasha with his shield. The sound of the energy hitting the shield made her skin crawl.

"Stay strong," Thor called out and threw his hammer into an alien's face. "I must ask, however, when a Hork-Bajir joined our fight?"

"Hork-Bajir?" Natasha rolled the unfamiliar word around in her mouth. She shot a look over her shoulder to where Clint (as the pointy tree) was last seen fighting. She couldn't see him but the sight of dozens of alien corpses littering the ground told her that he had been busy. "Nope, that's Clint." She toppled an alien over with a well-placed kick and it fell on top of two others. Like dominoes, three of them went down together, giving Natasha a precious few seconds to aim and fire three, successive bursts of light straight through their brains.

Thor looked startled and craned his neck, trying to spot the Hork-Bajir once more. Instead, he spotted something else. "Surely not," he wondered aloud, awe making his jaw slack. He put in an extra spurt of strength to wade over to where a blue, deer-like creature with a scorpion tail was stabbing aliens left and right.

"What on god's green earth is that thing?" Tony swore, shooting aliens down in a graceful arc from where he was hovering overhead.

Thor summoned lightning once more, clearing a large chunk of the terrain and giving everyone a much-needed break.

"It's an honour," Thor approached the blue thing and gave a small bow. The thing slowly shrunk, blue fur replaced by pinkish skin, an extra pair of limbs disappearing and the tail shrivelling up into nothing. In about half a minute of gruesome changes, Clint stood where the blue deer had stood with a pair of stalk eyes atop his head, but they quickly disappeared as well.

"Yeah, not really. I'm only half Andalite." Clint looked very awkward, either from having all the attention or having to receive said attention clothed only in skin-tight blue biker shorts. He rubbed at the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders once.

"Still, I had long thought the noble Andalite race extinct. The Hork-Bajir race certainly is; their entire planet was destroyed." Thor shook his head in disbelief. "The Warrior's Three will be so envious of me."

"That's nice," Clint said awkwardly, looking as if he wished the earth would swallow him whole. "There's actually a small colony of Hork-Bajir hidden on earth still. But you're right about the Andalites. They loved noble wars way too much to last very long."

"Okay, whatever, blah-blah, how are you changing into a creepy blue deer?" Tony interrupted, hating being left out of the loop. He quickly fired off a few missiles to hold off the hordes a few moments longer.

"I think Clint's half alien," Steve commented, still looking slightly unsteady after watching the blue thing become Clint. It had been a truly unsettling sight. "We can discuss the details later when we're not fighting for Earth's freedom."

"Wow, way to be dramatic, Captain. Fine, but we're nowhere near done with this. I have a ton of new nicknames to add to my repertoire." Tony powered up his suit and lifted off the ground. "I call dibs on the ugly one," he said before flying back into action.

After one last look at Clint and another small bow, Thor shot off to help the Hulk and Captain America focused on keeping the aliens from entering a bank where a large number of civilians were hiding.

Clint approached Natasha at a light jog, his eyes wary. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

Natasha shrugged, quickly bandaging a scrape on her thigh. She noticed that Clint had not so much as a scratch on him. Weird. She had so many questions, but Steve was right – later. But, "You were the bird, weren't you?"

"A red-tailed hawk. My favourite shape." He sounded slightly nostalgic as he shot her a wry grin. "There's a reason why I chose Hawkeye."

Natasha eyed him sagely, appraisingly. It stung a bit, but she had more than enough secrets of her own and couldn't blame him for keeping a few of his own. "Don't lie to me again," she settled on saying. "There's a reason why I chose Black Widow," she added with a wry grin.


End file.
